Butterfly Fly Away
by Yuval25
Summary: Dean has always known that Sammy was too good for this life.


Dean has always known that Sammy was too good for this life. For poverty and shady landlords and motel managers, for food bought with fake credit cards and scam money, for constant fear and knowing how to use a gun at ten years old, for living in a car, always moving, never staying in one place long enough to make friends or see the end of the school year, catching up on school material in public libraries and nicking books about Latin and monsters, for the look in people's eyes, full of pity and suspicion, sometimes disgust, always wariness.

Dad was in too deep to ever get out of their 'family business', too close in his head to figuring it all out and catching the bastard, to ever say 'uncle' and hang up his guns and return to civilization and a house and non-revenge-driven Friday nights.

Dean was no good doing anything else. He had dropped out of school, but even before then he never did very well in classes, bored out of his mind sitting in a classroom with naïve, unaware children learning un-useful facts. He would much rather practice moving targets shooting skills in the field behind whatever peeling-walled motel Dad left them at.

Sammy, though, he was right smart. Sharp and funny and social unlike Dean who preferred hanging out with his little brother over going to a booze-and-weed party held by the most round-chested girl in school. Sam was good and kind and in a year or two probably handsome enough to break any girl's heart – maybe the boys', too. Sam was talented, and he cared for things, but most importantly, Sam invested in his future. He studied hard and got good grades despite their erratic way of life. He joined debate teams and track teams and seemed to excel at pretty much everything, according to his teachers at every parent-teacher day thing Dean went to – because of course Dad was absent.

And Sam wanted normal. Would talk Dean's ear off about it.

"Why can't we have a Christmas tree, like a normal family?"

"Why can't I have a dog, like a normal kid?"

"I wish Dad would have left us at a house for once, like normal people."

"Normal people don't sleep with knives under their pillows, Dean!"

'Normal' to Dean was like 'Bike' and 'Safe' and 'Mom', things he knew existed, just not for him. For him there was 'Walking' and 'Danger' and 'Sam', and he was okay with that.

Sam wasn't. Sam wanted things. Sam had a right to want things. And Dean was nearly shuddering with guilt that he couldn't provide those things for him. Like a dog, and stability, and presents under a colorfully-lighted tree.

Not to say that he didn't try. It usually didn't end well, like that time Dean stole a few ribbon-tied gifts from a Christmas-decorated household, only to be caught red-handed by his Dad and sent back to return all of it with a reprimand and a stern, disappointed look which was worse than any form of punishment in Dean's eyes.

So it wasn't entirely shocking that Sam was hell-bent on going to college, or that he wanted to become a lawyer – Sammy always liked to argue, and he always liked to win. Combine those two together, throw in some of Sam's bull-headedness and ridiculously large brain, and you've got yourself one scary motherfucker you'd sell your firstborn to have represent you in court. Maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but in Dean's eyes his little brother would forever remain the non-supernatural, figurative version of King Midas. Every damn thing he decided to grace with the touch of his fingers turned fucking gold.

Sometimes, bunched together in a twin-bed that was tiny in relation to Sammy's sudden lankiness of long legs he hasn't gotten used to yet and sharp elbows stabbing into Dean's ribs with each movement, it felt like Dean might become a little bit more golden, too. Like Sam's incredibleness was so close he managed to absorb some of it. Like he was almost worthy of Sam's love and devotion, of being his big brother.

And sometimes he felt dispensable. Sometimes he felt small, meaningless, like a little piece of nothing.

Like now.

He watched as the bus became a small dot in the horizon, then disappeared completely, taking his little brother away to the place he's been dreaming of for more than a year. Away from Dad and the job and the monsters and the crazy.

Away from Dean.

Dean has always known that Sammy was too good for this life.

Still hurt like hell, though.


End file.
